Shrine to Murder (14 page)

Angel
nearly smiled. He blew out a short breath of self-satisfaction. ‘So that’s thirteen witnesses to the alibi?’

‘
Yes, sir.’

‘
One
usually suffices,’ Angel said.

Crisp
suddenly said, ‘You said it wasn’t him, sir, when we all thought it was. How did you know that?’

‘
I didn’t
know
, lad. But whoever it was, was totally expressionless throughout. He approached the pile of sheets coolly enough, which, from his point of view was exactly as he should have done. Then before making the snatch, I would have expected him to handle the sheet, make sure it would slide of the pile without snagging on anything or causing any disturbance to the display, then I would have expected him to have looked casually around to see who or what might have been observing him, perhaps smiling to put anyone near to him at their ease, but he didn’t. He didn’t observe any of these natural precautions. He simply made the snatch, shoved the sheet under his coat and made off. And his facial expression remained the same throughout. There was no facial movement whatever. There was not even a flicker of exhilaration at having succeeded or fear at the possibility of being caught. Nothing.’

Crisp
had listened attentively to Angel. Now his mouth was slightly open and his eyes fixed on him. He nodded slightly several times. ‘So, what’s your conclusion then, sir?’

‘
Well, the thief looked like Lamb. But it wasn’t Lamb.’

Crisp
looked down and shook his head in disbelief. ‘It looked just like him. Everybody said it was Lamb.’

Angel
shrugged.

‘
They say everybody has a doppelganger, sir,’ Crisp said. ‘Maybe that’s what it was.’

Angel
pursed his lips then said, ‘That would require a triple helping of coincidence, lad, and I don’t believe in
that
.’

The
phone rang. Angel snatched it up. It was Ahmed.

‘
Excuse me, sir. DS Taylor says he expects the van to be hoisted out of the water early this afternoon.’

‘
Thank you.’

‘
And there’s an envelope for you from Wetherby,’ Ahmed said.

‘
Wetherby
?’ Angel’s heart missed a beat. ‘Well bring it straight through. Don’t waste a second.’

He
slammed down the phone and turned to Crisp. ‘The result of the DNA from the lab.’

Crisp
’s eyebrows went up.

Angel
reached into his desk drawer for the old penknife he kept open and used for opening the post. He sat there poised, knife in hand, ready for the report.

Ahmed
knocked, dashed into the office, handed the envelope to Angel and then went back to the door, closed it and stood with his back to it.

Angel
slit open the envelope and read the report in a few seconds. His forehead dropped down as he read it again and then handed it to Crisp. Angel’s eyes moved almost imperceptibly as he considered the consequences of the information.

Crisp
read the report and lowered it back on to the desk.

There
was a silence.

Ahmed
looked from one to the other then back to Angel and said, ‘May I ask what it says, sir?’

Angel
slowly ran his hand through his hair then said, ‘It essentially says that the DNA sample indicates genes of a female with oriental heredity, lad.’

Ahmed
’s jaw dropped. ‘Margaret Ireland?’ he said.

Crisp
said, ‘Does that mean that if Margaret Ireland’s great, great, grandfather or grandmother was from China or Thailand or somewhere like that, then we’ve got her.’

‘
Not by itself, no. Her DNA would need to be an identical match to the sample hairs found on the back of Luke Redman’s hand.’

‘
That’s soon checked, sir.’

Angel
wasn’t pleased. ‘It would take another week.’

The
phone rang. Angel glared at it, snatched it up and said, ‘Angel.’

It
was Harker.

‘
Come up here. It’s urgent,’ he said and replaced the phone. It clicked annoyingly in Angel’s ear. Angel’s lips tightened back against his teeth. The last place in the world he wanted to be at that moment was in Harker’s office.

‘
That’s the Super. Wait here. I don’t expect to be long.’

Angel
stormed up the corridor, his face the same as he’d looked when he’d first smelled Strangeways fish pie.

He
knocked on the door and went in.

Harker
was at his desk, which was crowded by four piles of papers and files. He was removing the white stick inhaler from his nostril. He raised his eyebrows and said, ‘Now then. What about it? Have you had a result from Wetherby? Who is it? That man from the Coop, Kenneth Lamb?’

‘
Apparently not, sir. The sample has female genes. It could possibly be Margaret Ireland if she has oriental blood in her genes. The lab needs a sample to be positive.’

‘
Margaret Ireland? A woman?’ He looked straight ahead over the desk at the wall opposite. He was thinking. After a few moments, he shook his head and then said, ‘Well, are you going to charge her?’

‘
It’s difficult, sir.’

‘
Why? Don’t you think it’s her?’

‘
I’m not sure. It’s difficult to argue with science, but I thought that climbing up a ladder, thrusting a dagger into at least one man - admittedly a man in his eighties - then later, into a woman, a quite healthy, strong woman, had to be the work of an athletic man.’

‘
Well, by the look of the food bill I’ve had from the safe house, she eats more than a wing of Wakefield Prison, so don’t let her femininity fool you. Have you discovered a motive yet?’

‘
No, sir.’

‘
Huh. You are in a mess, aren’t you?’ Harker said with a smile.

Angel
noticed with surprise that he had smiled. It was very unusual. He hardly ever smiled. It was said round the station that every time Harker smiled, a donkey died.

‘
Better not let your reporters on the tabloids know,’ Harker said. ‘I expect they’d love to pull you down a peg or two and spoil your record of always getting your man.’

Harker
was really enjoying himself, and Angel knew it. There was nothing Angel wanted to say that he
could
say so he had to stand there and take it.

‘
If you’ve finished with me, sir, I’d like to get back.’

Harker
said, ‘I gave you until today and now your time is up.’

‘
What do you want me to do?’

‘
You can’t continue to use the cells and the safe house as warehousing for potential victims. I told you that.’

‘
They are also suspects, sir.’

‘
You can’t have a pile of suspects. For god’s sake, arrest one of them and send the other two home.’

Angel
pulled a face. He was in a vice and he didn’t like it.

There
were no options left open to him. ‘Give me until six o’clock, sir,’ he said.

‘
Five minutes to five. I will be going home at five o’clock and I will want to know who will still be getting free board and lodging before I go.’

*

Angel ran all the way down the green corridor back to his office. He opened the door to find DS Crisp and Ahmed still waiting for him.

He
looked straight at Crisp and said, ‘Trevor, nip up to the safe house, 11 Beechfield Walk, and bring Margaret Ireland and WPC Baverstock back here. Make it quick. And be careful.’

Crisp
blinked, then said, ‘Are you arresting her, sir?’

‘
Not yet. Now buzz off. Time’s precious,’ he said opening the desk drawer.

‘
Right, sir,’ Crisp said and was gone.

Out
of the drawer, he took out a pad of printed forms and a pen and began to fill it in very rapidly. He glanced up at Ahmed. ‘This is a request for a search warrant. It’s very urgent.’ He signed it, folded it, put it in an envelope and handed it to him.

‘
Take that straight to Doctor Suliman. I’ll phone Transport and organize a lift for you. It will pick you up at the front of the station ASAP. Wait for the Doctor to sign it, then take bring it straight back to me. All right?’

Ahmed
nodded, ‘Right, sir.’

*

An hour later, Angel was in Interview Room number 2 sitting next to Trevor Crisp and opposite Margaret Ireland and her solicitor, Samuel Shallow. The red light was on and the recording tape running. Angel had already made the opening statement about the time and who was present and so on.

‘
I don’t know what this is about, Inspector,’ Margaret Ireland said. ‘I don’t know why I need a solicitor. I thought I was in that police house for my safety. That’s what I was told…to protect me from a murderer. Now you are treating me like a…a criminal.’

‘
Not at all. And I’m sorry you may think that this is the case. On the contrary, I still believe that you are in great danger and I want to do everything to keep you alive.’

She
shuffled uncomfortably and put her top lip briefly over her bottom lip. ‘Now you’re frightening me,’ she said.

‘
I don’t intend to. I have a series of questions to put to you that I hope will assist us to find the murderer. I hope that you will not be offended by them. Firstly, I need to know where you were on Saturday night, 23 May, through to Sunday morning, the 24.’

‘
I was at home, of course.’

‘
You were there all night,’ he said, ‘
on
your
own
.’

Her
eyes flashed angrily. ‘Of course I was. I live on my own. I’ve lived on my own for years. You make living on your own, sound…sound almost indecent.’

‘
Not at all. It is important that I know the truth, that’s all. Your private life is entirely your own affair.’

Her
eyes flashed. ‘I don’t have a
private
life, as you call it. And the use of the word “affair” in that context is not at all…appropriate.’

Angel
frowned. This wasn’t going well. ‘Let us move on to the morning of Wednesday, 27 May, four days later. Where were you then?’

‘
Ah. Wednesday,’ she said, then suddenly her face changed. Her eyes darted in various directions before settling on Angel. ‘Why are you asking me where I was?’ she said. ‘What does it matter where I was? Who wants to know? Am I being accused of something? It’s these murders, isn’t it? You must be thinking that I could be this nutcase character who dresses like a Roman 2000 years ago. Me. Of all people. The most ordinary, respectable, quiet woman in Bromersley. You must be mad, stark staring mad.’

‘
No,’ Angel said. ‘Not at all. I have had to ask several other people the same question. It’s a matter of knowing where everybody significant in the case was at the critical time. It’s a bit like setting out a chess board to find out where all the pieces were at a particular stage in the game, that’s all.’

Margaret
Ireland rubbed her chin for a measured five seconds then said, ‘Very well. I was at home, all Wednesday morning, Inspector. No. Nobody can verify it. Nobody came. Nothing happened. No tradesman delivered anything.’

Angel
nodded. ‘Thank you.’

‘
What’s your next question?’ she said quickly.

‘
The same thing, the following day, Thursday, Miss Ireland. Where were you in the evening between 5 p.m. and 7 p.m.?’

‘
The same answer. I was at home. Next?’

Angel
rubbed his chin. In a strange sort of way, he was worried for her. ‘Think carefully, I urge you, Miss Ireland. Are you absolutely certain that you saw nobody? Waved at them through the window? Took in a parcel for a neighbour? Paid the milkman? Anything like that?’

‘
No. No. I don’t think so. Come on, let’s get on with it. What’s your next question?’

‘
Do you drive a car?’

Her
eyebrows went up. ‘Why on earth would you want to know that? I
did
drive. I had a beautiful Rover car but, when I retired two years ago, I stopped driving and sold the car. I thought walking would be good for me. And so it has proved to be. Any more questions?’

‘
Just a few, Miss Ireland. Easy ones. Where were you born?’